ELEVEN
Ella's entrance that night was grand. She had learned how to enter a room with confident, thrown back shoulders and upheld chin, smiling brightly as though greeting the entire room and it was effective - while the room did not come to a standstill, as it would in a movie, many heads would turn to get a look at her and smile and nod.
She had taken extra care in getting changed that evening and so made her entrance alone, Jean having gone ahead of her. "My cheeks are itching for a kiss that only one man's lips can scratch!" she had swooned to Ella's groans. Jean was getting giddier and giddier over the blonde, bespectacled, perpetually scratching mobster and Ella thought it hopeless. But her thoughts were quickly distracted by her new gown and by the plan she intended to carry out whilst in it and she continued to get ready.
As she had swept through the club in the dazzling new dress, a nearby table of distinguished gentlemen actually gave her a smattering of applause, making her colour with pride and pleasure.
In shimmering white silk taffeta shot through with gold, the dress was sleeveless, leaving her shoulders and decolletage entirely bare. Bias cut over her torso, it spilled out into a full train mid-thigh. The sweetheart neckline was embellished with pearly beads and rhinestones matched at the yoke and they caught the light and twinkled, as did the gold thread running throughout the material. She had pincurled her hair the night before and brushed it out into a sausage roll that framed her face softly. Her gold t-bar high heels were on her feet and she wore no gloves but heavily powdered her arms and decolletage so she would appear stark and flawless in the dim light of the club. The way the material clung to her body and shifted as she walked made her feel sensual and glamorous and she did not doubt she was a sight to behold.
She paused near the stage and looked about the room, seeking out a particular person and finding him by the bar and fortunately, for her intentions, alone.
Drawing in a deep breath, she set her chin and floated across the room towards Flattop who faced the club with both elbows on the bar, thoughtfully surveying the cheery crowd at the Ritz. He became aware of her approach when she was still a few steps from him and fixed his cold hazel eyes on her, the only reaction to her elegant glamour the slightest tilting back of his head.
"Ella," he greeted her in a slightly amused voice, remaining in his casual slouch. "Been drinkin' your milk, I see."
It was clearly the best compliment he was going to give her and she decided to disregard it.
"Good evening, Mr. Jones," she said formally. "I've been meaning to speak to you for a couple of weeks now."
To that he cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing and Ella opened her silver clutch and withdrew four fifty dollar notes. She looked back at the mobster to see that something curious had started to glimmer in his eye.
"I wanted to say thank you for being so kind and giving me a loan when I was in such need. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to pay you back but well - here you are." She held the folded notes out in front of her, keeping her face still to mask the nervousness she was feeling, despite how carefully she'd rehearsed the interaction at home.
Flattop continued to stare at her, his expression not changing apart from a hardening of the eyes. Her heart began to pound but she forced herself to hold his gaze. It was only that week she had finally had enough put aside to return the two hundred dollars that had hung over her head so long and as it coincided with her new dress, she determined to win back the power she had lost, ensuring there was nothing that could be held over her.
After a very long moment during which Ella did not look away although she knew her eyes were growing wider and threatening to betray her, his upper lip flickered in a sneer and he looked away.
"I told ya, kid, it was a tip," he said, an edge of roughness betraying his own irritation.
For a moment she was tempted to drop the money to the carpet, as he had done to her, but the most disturbing thing about Flattop was he never seemed to lose his temper - which made her frightened of what he would be like if he did. She was provoking him enough in returning the money and so she simply placed the small bundle of bills on the bar next to his elbow, turned and walked away without looking back to see what he might do. If he wanted to leave them on the bar for whoever to find, then let him - she had made her point.
Freddy bailed her up on her way to find Jean, beaming at her goofishly in what he no doubt thought was a charmingly boyish way.
"Ella bella!" he exclaimed delightedly, taking hold of one of her hands and kissing it hard. "You are so radiant tonight, an absolute vision."
"Thank you, Freddy," Ella replied akwardly. "And thank you for the flowers too, they're very lovely." She still had manners after all, though she knew it would only encourage him.
Freddy's grin widened delightedly, his complexion already ruddy from alcohol consumption. "Oh you got them, I'm so pleased. My secretary said it was a terrible chore to track them down but of course I wanted to ensure you got only the best."
Ella may not have been raised in the upper classes, but she knew this was gauche.
"Thank you for going to the trouble," she said stiffly, looking about her for an escape as Freddy pressed further into her space. Across the room then she saw Flattop, who had moved from the bar and was standing with a couple of his peers, watching them, a faint smile on his mouth. Irritated, she looked back at Freddy who was trying to coax her into a drink, "as a thank you, for the flowers."
She was vexed by the manipulation - she hadn't asked for the flowers after all. "Just let me find Jean, I have to give her back her lipstick, wait for me at the bar won't you?" she said desperately and pulled away the hand that Freddy still clung to, dashing off.
She found Jean and Itchy in a dark corner of the club, Jean's hand inside Itchy's tuxedo jacket and his arm low around her waist, giggling together. Her appearance stole Itchy's leering attention from Jean for a moment but she pretended not to notice and flung herself onto a chair at the table.
"Save me, won't you?" she implored. "The fool won't leave me alone!"
Jean and Itchy tittered together at her predicament and then there was another person at the table.
"Hbahbahba," the indecipherable voice was unmistakably admiring. "Nwhrsnerpetmato!"
Ella looked up to see the long, pale face with its overly large nose and distinctive twisted lips of Mumbles, one of Big Boy's key flunkies - the one who copped the most abuse and the least respect. Of all of the mobsters she had encountered since beginning work at the Club Ritz, Mumbles seemed genuinely to be the nicest and most harmless and it was difficult to remember he was as crooked as the rest of them.
"Here we go," Jean explained. "Mumbles will look after you!"
"Wtsalthsbothn?" It was the question in Mumbles' voice that gave them some indication of what he was saying rather than any ability to decipher his words.
"Ella's being persued by that awful Freddy Washington," Jean explained fervently, clearly loving the drama. "And we need you to stand in as her date tonight so she can get away from him. Say you will, won't you Mumbles please!" She batted her eyelashes and Ella swivelled around to smile pleadingly up him as Itchy took the cigar from his mouth and giggled.
Mumbles put a hand on his chest and made a small bow, his pale yellow hair looking almost white in the dark club. "Wldbenhnr, mdm," and seated himself at the table while Ella had a small giggle to herself at the thought of a villain playing the role of hero. Ella knew the cowardly Freddy would not dare approach while the gangsters were present, for all his blustering about being tight with them and while she might not be able to understand a word Mumbles said, he was a great deal less obnoxious than some of the others.
But the group's gaity was short-lived. They were just making a move to leave for the Villa Venice when Flattop sauntered up to their table, ignoring the ladies and addressing his fellows.
"Time to step out, boys. Somethin's come up."
Mumbles and Itchy were instantly all business, pushing their chairs back, Itchy stubbing out his cigar and Mumbles straightening his tie, neither with another word to the two ladies though Itchy did suffer himself to pat Jean on the cheek. Jean looked terribly put out and Ella glanced nervously around to see if Freddy was lurking in wait, but they both knew better than to complain, even playfully.
Flattop took a glance at them both sitting there in sulky silence and then reached into his pocket and withdrew a small bundle of notes, tossing them onto the center of the table.
"There you go, kittens, take yourselves out, mm? Be a shame for those pretty dresses to go to waste."
He looked directly at Ella and winked, then grinned and strode away.
